


Pillbug

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Drugs, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Game, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24457204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Saihara refused to meet his lilac gaze and kept his mouth shut. Maybe if he realised he wasn't interested in talking to him, he'll leave him alone. "Hey, hey, you!"He didn't answer.“You’re Saihara Shuichi, aren’t you?”That was when Saihara looked at him. "H-how'd you know?"--The 53rd season ends, and Saihara meets a fan who looks familiar.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 146





	Pillbug

**Author's Note:**

> i actually had the idea for this fic before i made this ao3 account. at the time i didn't have the ability to write it so i left the idea alone until now. this story's inspired by a childhood fear of mine. when i was a kid there was one time when i was prescribed the wrong medication for a whole month, and it turned my brain to slush. it was such a shitty month that when I had my medication adjusted again, i got paranoid that my psychiatrist had been trying to drug me into "obedience" or something haha
> 
> also, this fic is post-game because i really like writing post-game au's. anyway, hope you enjoy this!
> 
> p.s where i am, kokichi's b-day is tomorrow so happy birthday to one of the best characters of the franchise :)

Saihara was forgetful, so he took the pills every night. 

Not the bad kind that most people were warned about, but the good ones. The ones that made him better, according to his uncle, helped enhance his memory and sharpen his focus. Honestly, Saihara was sure his uncle was exaggerating since the pills only made him drowsy. It weighed down on him like a heavy blanket, made him feel like the world was submerged into a hazy fuzz all around him, had random images floating aimlessly in his mind. It didn't really make him feel any better. 

But it was _good_ for him and his uncle wanted him to take them, so took them. He was constantly nagged at about it, he had to make sure he had the right amount each day. Whenever his uncle found out Saihara forgot to take them or was too lazy to, he was angry. When he did remember however, his uncle was pleased.

Saihara didn't remember when he started taking them, or even why, but he knew it was to do with some kind of brain damage. Perhaps he hit his head while cycling, or something like that. Whatever it was, his uncle never told him. 

Nobody ever knew about the pills other than his uncle. Saihara hadn't known that was about to change. 

It was Thursday evening and surprisingly, when Saihara took the train back home from school. It was empty, as were all the stations it passed through. It was just him and the yellow glow of the train, the blur of grey buildings that came and went before his eyes, the gentle clack of the moving machinery. Since he'd forgotten to take them last night, he might as well take them at the moment when no one was around. He remembered taking a packet of his medicine with his in the morning. 

But right when he'd taken an oblong pellet out of its bag, he'd felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“S’cuse me! Mind if I sit here?”

Saihara looked up at the person in front of him. A short and thin figure, black uniform, messy hair and dark lilac eyes. The boy's entire presence almost seemed out of place in the light glow of the train, and he was hit by a sense of déjà vu. It was as if Saihara had seen him somewhere before.

“There are seats available,” Saihara said, the pellet cold in between his fingers. But the boy only shrugged, and plopped himself next right to Saihara as if he had’t said anything at all.

Hoping he hadn't noticed, Saihara quickly popped the pellet into his mouth, without bothering to drink from his water bottle and gulped. The bitterness exploded on his tongue and he winced, swallowing down the gross taste still lingering in his mouth. 

The train moved, and the two sat there. He could already feel the boy pulling out something from his backpack and began munching on it messily, crumbs flying onto his lap. If the boy saw he'd taken his pills, he didn't show it. But Saihara didn't want to dwell too much on it as he watched the mountainside outside the window, letting the loud air conditioning drown out the noise of his chewing. Soon the boy shoved his finished wrappers down his bag and began to nudge him. 

“Hey, hey, you.” he said to him. When he gave no response, the boy tilted his head to the side. “You’re Saihara Shuichi, aren’t you?”

Saihara looked at him.

"So you _are_ Saihara Shuichi."

"Uh... you know me?"

"Sure I do!" he laughed, sinking back into his seat with arms folded behind his head. "You're the nephew of that Danganronpa killing game producer! I see your face plastered all over the news nowadays."

Saihara's chest grew heavy. "Is that so..."

"Yup. You looked so familiar when I saw you, and I thought you might be his nephew." he said. "But you look cuter in person."

Saihara felt the heat rushing to his face and hoped the boy didn't notice it. He looked away, keeping his eyes to the shaking ground as the train continued to move down the tracks. 

"And y'know, you don't have to worry."

"...Huh?"

"The thing you just took. It's pretty normal for people in Japan nowadays. There's nothing to be embarrassed about." he grinned. "I'm going to leak all of this to the press."

"Oh."

At some point, a voice made its way to the speakers, commenting that they were just about to arrive to their next stop. "Is this where you're going to get off, Saihara-chan?"

"No," Saihara said, "Two more stops for me.”

"Aw, seriously? I'm about to get off soon."

Thank god, half of Saihara thought, while the other half drowned in disappointment. The train finally came to a stop, and the automatic doors slid open. The boy stood from his feet, and gave him a strange look. "It was so nice talking to you, Saihara-chan." he said. "My name's Ouma Kokichi, by the way. Hopefully we meet again."

He disappeared out the door, and Saihara clutched tightly onto his packet. Someone who knew of his infamous uncle _also_ knew his nephew was weird enough to be taking these drugs. These are the sorts of things that get exposed on the news or national television or make their way to social media outlets. But it's fine. 

Somehow he had a feeling he could trust this guy.

Saihara had dinner with his uncle that night. They ate, quietly as always. 

Ouma’s words about the killing game echoed in Saihara’s mind. He had to ask his uncle about it.

“So…” Saihara began. “I met someone at the train today.”

“Hm?”

“Someone who knows me. And knows you.”

His uncle placed his chopsticks down. Stern gaze fixed on Saihara. “Someone who knows us?”

Saihara swallowed. “Yeah. He said he knows you for your work in Danganronpa…” a pause. “And he recognises me from the news.”

His uncle went silent. 

“But… you know, he's a stranger so I didn't keep his contact.” he laughed, too forcibly. “You know? He could be a crazy obsessed fan of yours or something. But... he looked fam-“

“Shuichi,” his uncle said, and Saihara looked up. 

“Y-yeah?”

“Did you forget to take your medicine again?”

“What? No—“

“Go to your room. Take your medicine.”

The man’s face was turning red, and Saihara saw his own fearful expression in his uncle’s amber eyes. He could already feel the sweat gathering at his back, and he quickly stood, rushing upstairs and into his room, wondering what he didn’t know. It was always about the _medicine, medicine, medicine._

Life was always fine for Saihara, even after the encounter with the purple haired boy. He went to school, did his schoolwork, read his novels every now and then. The days passed by into weeks, tedious and repetitive. Other than some occasional stares outside, whispers on the streets about being the nephew of a Danganronpa producer, things were back to normal. It was almost as if he'd expected something big to happen after meeting such strange boy. 

Sometimes he thought he might miss him. 

Soon, he saw Ouma Kokichi again. 

Just like before, he was taking the train home from school, and just like before nobody else boarded the train except for him and Ouma, and just like before, it was Ouma who approached Saihara first. "It's you again." he grinned. "Do you remember me? I sat next to you a couple weeks ago."

Saihara looked away. "... Ouma... Kokichi, right?"

"Ding, ding! You got it right!"

Instead of sitting next to him this time, the shorter boy took a seat across from Saihara, crossing his legs. He kept his lilac stare on Saihara, unwavering and full of an unrepentant curiosity. Saihara wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. 

"So. How has life been for you?"

"Um. Fine."

"You've _still_ been taking your meds regularly?"

He stiffened. Ouma's voice was cheery, but he sensed a small bitterness leaking from his words. "Y-yes..."

Ouma smiled, and it looked frightening. 

"That's good." he said, and his demeanour changed. "Aaaaanyway Saihara-chan. I've always wondered, how does it feel to be related to someone so famous?"

He was relieved at the sudden change of topic. For a moment, it sounded like Ouma wanted to ask what the pills were for. "It's all right, I guess."

"I thought you'd be happier. Practically everyone in this country knows about your uncle and work in Danganronpa, he even has a group of worshippers," Ouma sighed, "Lucky guy. I wish I had that many people who love me, but I've only got my nine friends at school, nishishi."

Saihara didn't really agree. While his uncle was worshipped by some people, he was mostly really hated. Kids and murder don't mix well, after all. He didn't respond, and Ouma went quiet. The silence was comfortable, just the small clack of the train, and he thought it was going to last to his final stop until Ouma spoke again. 

"So... just curious but I heard your uncle worked at a detective agency before Danganronpa?"

Nobody was aware of that, so how this stranger knew was beyond him. "Yeah... That's right."

That was a long time ago. Before he started to take his medicine and when he was so much closer to his uncle. Back when his uncle took him to crime scenes which they investigated together like father and son. Back before he took up Danganronpa and everything about him changed. Saihara didn't know what kind of face he was making then, but it was bad enough to make Ouma frown at him and apologise. 

Saihara shrugged, telling him it was fine.

"Not that. I'm actually sorry about something else." he said. "I wanna say that I told lie to you, Saihara-chan."

"What?"

"You remember when I said you recognised you from the news?" Saihara did recall that happening. "I _lied_. I've actually seen you in the fifty-third season of Danganronpa."

_Fifty...third killing game?_

"Your uncle played a large role in the making of fifty-third season, and you were the main protagonist." Ouma said. "I'm a huge fan of yours."

"Fan?"

"Uh-huh! You were sooooooo cool in there, watching you always got me through the day!"

His head throbbed at his words. The pain felt like someone was stabbing his head. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed the pain to go away, and the rest of the world became detached, all he could concentrate on was the agony pounding deep in his head.

"Saihara-chan?"

He could barely hear Ouma talking to him, but he felt the train come to a stop. He didn't know if it was his stop, but Saihara grabbed his briefcase, and quickly stood up and slipped past the opening doors without looking back at the shorter boy's confused stare. 

He was going to walk home. All Saihara needed was to get out of the train. 

Saihara couldn’t sleep that night. Every time he tried to close his eyes, his mind wandered off to Ouma. His weird reaction to his medicine, him knowing too much about his uncle, his mention of Saihara being in the killing game. All of it kept him up. 

He kept staring at the bare ceiling. He felt like he didn't know something he _should_ know. The thing about the killing game was that it was all fake. Saihara knew that because his uncle told him. He was always told everything about Danganronpa but he was never told much about the 53rd killing game. His uncle had worked on that particular project for a long time, was really frustrated at one point because he said there weren't enough participants as the franchise grew less popular. That was all he knew. It was after the project was done Saihara was always forced to take his medicine.

And there was that "fan" of his, Ouma. He kept saying things Saihara didn't understand. 

_You've still been taking your meds regularly?_

_I've actually seen you in the fifty-third season._

_You were the main protagonist._

_I'm a huge fan of yours._

He tossed and turned in his bed, but still wasn't able to sleep. 

That night, Saihara had a dream. He was on the train. Ouma was sitting in front of him. 

_"You're Saihara Shuichi."_

_"How'd you know?"_

_"We've met a couple of times. You probably don't remember." he said. "How long have you been taking your medicine?"_

_"What has that got to do with anything?"_

_"It's making your brain deteriorate. You'll forget about everything soon, Saihara-chan."_

The next morning before school, Saihara found his uncle at the breakfast table, eyes glued to the newspaper in his hand. "Good morning, Shuichi."

"Good morning."

He glanced up at him. "You look tired. Didn't get enough sleep?"

"No..." he answered. "Was staying up all night finishing up homework."

"Hm."

Saihara stared at him. Grey face with deep wrinkles carved into his facial features, dark amber eyes in set tired sockets. The very face that smiled at him when he was young, was the same face he couldn't trust anymore. _You know something that I don't._

"Shuichi?"

"Ah, yeah." he said, turning away. "I'm not hungry today. I think I'll just go to school now."

His uncle said nothing as he crossed the room to pick up his folders lying on the couch. He felt his uncle's eyes on him even as he reached the door. "Take care, Shuichi." he said. "Remember to bring your pills, and be careful around strangers. Don't forget."

"I know."

Saihara knew he was going to see him that evening. 

With no greeting, Ouma sat next to him. They remained quiet for a long time, and the silence gnawed at his insides. Thoughts raced through his mind, _what to say what to say what to say._ But finally-

"The other day, I think I took it too far.” Ouma sighed, almost apologetically. “You can tell I’m shit at pretending to fanboy over you.”

“Pretending?”

Ouma rolled his eyes. “You don’t think I’m seriously a fan of yours, right? When did you get so narcissistic?”

So... he wasn't a crazy after all. Saihara felt his shoulders relaxing. That was a relief. 

"I was hoping it'd make you remember if I triggered you." he said, bitterly. "Looks like my masterful plan didn't work."

Saihara stared ahead at the hills outside the window of the train. Trees dotted the landscape with a leafy green hue. The orange sunset fading into the bloody sky. He didn't understand what the boy was saying or what he meant by triggering him, but he knew from the face Ouma was making, frustrated and defeated, that he understood Saihara's situation better than Saihara himself. And he was _tired_. 

"I've... stopped taking them." Saihara said, and when Ouma raised an eyebrow he continued, "The pills. I know they're doing something bad to me. So I've stopped taking them. You know about them, right?"

"You'll die if you stop taking them."

"Oh."

"I know it's making you forget about everything, but your body has depended on it too much to stop now."

He asked what he meant by that. 

“You don’t know, do you?” Ouma said. “We were both part of the fifty-third killing game _your_ uncle was responsible for. You just don't remember.”

“You know how the story goes,” Ouma began, “Corrupt uncle takes his nephew into the killing game. He survives and turns out everyone else was alive. Tries to fight back. Gets caught.”

Caught. For some reason, Saihara’s palms grew clammy at that. 

“Everyone gets separated all across the country. A dumbass friend decides to save him. Fails.”

Friend. Saihara looked down at Ouma, who wasn’t meeting his gaze. 

“Anyway. Those two, like star-crossed lovers, tried to run away. Alas! They got caught... I get sent home and you...”

“What happened to me?"

“... They give you these pills to keep you clueless and fucking dumb.” he said. “You don’t even remember me anymore.”

"I'm sorry."

"You said the same thing last time, you know?" Ouma laughed, but there no humour in it. 

Should Saihara be feeling something more? Perhaps. But Ouma was right, other than knowing his name he really was just a stranger to him. There was still more Ouma wasn't talking about, more Saihara didn't know. "How many times have I met you?" _How many times has this happened all over again?_

"I've lost count."

The train came to its final destination. 

"Hey, Saihara-chan?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't stop taking your medicine. Even if you forget, I don't want you to die. Promise me that or I'll send my goons after you."

The train stopped moving a while ago. It was quiet, empty. Just him, Ouma and the yellow glow that spilled in from the windows. 

Ouma was going to get up and leave soon. Somehow, Saihara knew this was going to be the last time he'll see him for a long time. And truthfully, Saihara was scared. He didn’t know what will happen to him once he was alone in this city with his uncle. He didn’t know how long until his mind lost everything that happened today. Thinking of all that, the pills in his pocket felt like a heavy weight on him. 

He swallowed, and it was his first time saying his name. “Ouma-kun..?”

Ouma looked up at him, lilac eyes dull and tired. “Uh-huh?”

“Even if I forget you again...” he said. “Please don’t give up on me.”

“I won’t.”

That was all he needed to hear. 


End file.
